i'm moaning myrtle. i wouldn't expect you to know me. who would ever talk about fat, ugly, miserable, moping, moaning myrtle? myrtle sobs loudly, dives head first into the toilet.
ooh, wait till you see. it's awful! the stall's lock slides back. the door opens slowly.
come to throw something else at me?
don't ask me. here i am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me.
oh sure! let's all throw books at myrtle, because she can't feel it! ten points if you can get it through her stomach. fifty points if it goes through her head!
i don't know. i didn't see them. i was just sitting in the u-bend, thinking about death and it fell through the top of my head. harry sees a small black book on the floor. picks it up.
who's there? oh.  hello, harry. what do you want?
oooooh, it was dreadful. it happened right here. in this very cubicle. i'd hidden because olive hornby was teasing me about my glasses. i was crying, and then i heard somebody come in.
i don't know! i was distraught! but they said something funny. a kind of made-up language. and i realized it was a boy speaking. so i unlocked the door, to tell him to go away, and.  i died.
no idea. i just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. over there.
oh, harry.  if you die down there, you're welcome to share my toilet.